You’d gotten good at feeling the signs.

The fog behind your eyes. The tremble in your fingers. That distant, drifting feeling like your body was a few steps ahead of your thoughts.

You were in the backseat when it started this time. Wanda was driving. Natasha was in the passenger seat, her hair tied back, reading over some school papers you’d left crumpled in your backpack.

You didn’t say anything at first.

You never did.

But you tugged slightly at your sleeve—your silent signal. Just enough.

Natasha turned immediately. “You okay?”

You blinked, slow. Your mouth felt like cotton.

“I think…”

That was all it took. She was already climbing over the seat before the car even stopped.

Wanda pulled onto the side of the road, calm as always, but you saw her knuckles white on the wheel.

Natasha reached for the pouch you always carried. She was steady. She always was, even when you weren’t.

You didn’t cry. Not anymore. But your lip trembled.

“It’s okay, malyshka,” Natasha whispered, brushing the hair from your forehead. “We’ve got you.”

The glucose tabs tasted like raspberry chalk, but you chewed them because she asked you to, because Wanda was watching from the front mirror, her green eyes filled with so much worry and love it hurt a little to look at.

You leaned into Natasha’s chest. Her hand rubbed circles against your back like a song only the two of you knew.

After a minute, Wanda passed a bottle of juice over her shoulder. “Sip slowly,” she murmured, her voice soft, Sokovian slipping in at the edges. “Just like we practiced.”

You nodded.

They never panicked. They knew you. Knew your body like it was a map they carried in their hearts. You never had to explain. Never had to say “I’m scared,” because they always saw it in your eyes first.

When your sugar started to rise again and your fingers stopped shaking, Natasha kissed your temple, lingering there like she always did.

Wanda climbed into the back with you then, wrapping her arms around both of you, her cheek pressing to yours.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Every time.”

You looked at your moms—the two strongest women you’d ever known—and for the first time that day, you smiled.